As the World Falls Down
by TheMechanaGnome
Summary: A rewrite of the vastly unpopular Beast Machines, told primarily through a rat's perspective. Contains elements of slash, snark, and fridge logic.


Pain. Oh Primus, the pain. He wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball until the pain flooding his circuits passed, but his limbs didn't want to cooperate. Was it possible to be in so much pain and yet be completely numb at the same time? He hadn't thought so before, but now...

Gritting his teeth, the spy pushed himself to his feet and staggered, leaning heavily against a nearby console. Green mist and lubricant obscured his vision, but he could see shapes moving, writhing and screaming in pain. Screams that would haunt him for the rest of his days, there was no doubt in his mind about that. And beneath it all, he could hear the rumbling and revving of engines, so many engines.

He didn't know what was going on, but he did know one thing; he had to get out.

Forcing his limbs to move through sheer willpower, he stumbled passed the contorting and writhing bodies (he should help them. What could he do? He was barely functioning himself). Down the short hallway, there was a hatch. Through a small window, he could see a second chamber beyond, then a second hatch (an airlock? No, robots didn't need to breathe, a decontamination chamber. How did he know he was a robot?). He thumbed the keypad on the hatch and crumpled to the ground as the door slid open, pain flaring in his chest (his spark), screaming.

Through the pain, he could feel himself shifting, changing, parts of him moving that he didn't know could move. For one brief, but oh so eternal moment, he felt as though every inch of him was exposed to the air; all his wires, all his gears, all of him open and vulnerable. Then the world went dark with a quiet whir and click, and he found himself staring through a new set of eyes, his chest heaving.

He lifted one hand, expecting... he didn't know what he was expecting, but long, slender, pink fingers tipped with tiny claws, attached to a fuzzy gray wrist was not it. What was he? Who was he? What was going on?

_Rattrap, _a voice supplied. A familiar voice, not his own, but coming from inside him all the same._ Vermin. _ Why did one word, one insult of a word, send a pleasured thrill through his circuits, pushing aside the pain for one, all too brief, moment? Was it the word itself? The source? Something... more?

An explosion rocked the chamber (the ship), and the voice roared. _MOVE RODENT!_

Rattrap didn't need to be told twice. Somewhere, farther down, there was another explosion, and by the time the ship stopped shaking, he was on his belly, scampering towards the exit hatch. Reared up on his hind legs, frantic fingers punched in codes automatically. He didn't know how he knew which buttons to push, but he did, and the door slid open just as easily as the first had, but the veiw beyond made the rat stop short.

Outside the ship, dark pink motorcycles circled, large silver tanks flanking them every few feet. As they spotted the mouse in the doorway, a group separated from the pack, and abruptly reared back on their hind wheels, raising their... tailpipes? (_Arms, cheesebrain. They transformed.)_ Arms, right, he knew that. Those were quite clearly arms, and the glowy spots where servos should have been were energy blasts and he was **slagged** if he didn't move his aft NOW (amazing how quickly his thoughts were coming now. Was it the threat of death that sharpened his wits?).

Another jolt of pain wracked his body, and Rattrap moved on instinct, hurling himself from the side of the ship. He tucked into a roll just before hitting the ground, using the momentum to propel himself to his feet and towards his attackers. He couldn't fight like this, but he couldn't stay here; his only option was to plow through and hope for the best. Luckily, he was small and agile, and he was able to dodge through all the shots, slip through biker bots, and dart around one of the large tanks. He didn't look over his shoulder as he ran, but he could hear small explosions and laser fire going off behind him. Were they shooting each other in their attempt to get at him? What, were they that desperate to get at him or were they...

Drones. He didn't need that oh, so helpful part of his CPU (spark) to tell him that, though he could tell it was just waiting for another chance to snark at him. Wait, was he arguing with himself? Don't answer that, he could already feel the sarcasm bubbling up from somewhere in his consciousness. Now he could feel smug triumph. What the Pit, did he have a split personality or something?

A blaster shot and a sudden flare of heat against his heels told him that this was not the time to be arguing with his inner monologue. He had to find someplace to hide from these bikes, but where?

A flash of shadow over head provided an answer. The titanium reinforced transport sleds would be perfect! Not only would the armor be able to withstand the laser fire, but they'd run all the way to Cybertropolis where he could get some help, and the drones wouldn't be able to see him. Now he just had to figure out how to lose those fragging heaps of scrapmetal...

As it turned out, Lady Luck, (or Primus) (shuddup) was on his side. There was a sewer hole he could dart down, and though a few drones tried to follow, their tailpipe-servos weren't very adept at lifting things set into the ground. The helpful part of his CPU (spark) questioned why he didn't just stay in the sewers, since was so suited to their environment, but he pointed out that inter-city sewers weren't connected. Sure, he could run around the spaceport all he wanted, but all the pipes would eventually run to a waste processing plant. Since the drones seemed to have taken over the port, it was unlikely that he'd find much help there, so his best bet was getting to the city.

How do you know Cybertropolis hasn't been overrun with drones? He pushed that thought out of his processor. There was more than one city on Cybertron, they all couldn't be filled with drones. There were people here, he knew it. He just didn't know how he knew it.

Once the sounds of engines began to die down and fade away completely, Rattrap figured it was safe to make a break for the transport sleds. He was Rattrap, wasn't he? A mech from the city of... well, he was on a ship called the Axalon... and he did some spy stuff... his alt-mode is a rat-! Oh, slaggit, why was everything so _fuzzy?_ (because you have a virus) Nonsense, he had the best anti-viral software on the planet. He'd made sure of it before he left. (you left three stellar cycles ago, vermin. More than enough time for viruses to evolve beyond your software's capabilities) Hey, he didn't like the tone of thought he was using on himself.

Biting back a whine of frustration fueled by his far too distracting inner monologue, Rattrap grunted and scrabbled up the side of a building, hauling himself bit by bit, as fast as his puny body could go. He was hoping, praying to whatever deity existed (Primus) that the drones didn't swing by for another sweep. He was so close to those sleds. Just a bit higher, and with the right timing, he'd be able to leap into one as it passed beneath him...

Luck or Primus was on his side once again. He made it to the appropriate height and dropped into the next sled to zoom by without incident, and once he was settled in the darkened crate, he was able to really assess the situation. He started with the what was closest.

"Okay, voice," he muttered, testing out his vocalizer. He sounded a bit rough, but it wasn't too different from what he was expecting. And it didn't sound like the part of him that'd been harassing his furry aft thus far. "Whut are ya?"

(_what _am I?)

The emphasis was not lost on the malfunctioning rodent. "Don'chu go correctin' me, I asked ya a question!"

A soft snarl echoed in his thoughts, and he felt his lips pulled back into a sneer. Whoa, that wasn't his doing! That felt _weird._ (that is because, you flea-bitten rodent, that was me)

There was something about that voice that sent shudders traveling down his furry frame. He liked it, he really, really liked it, but that made no sense. Why would something inside of him make him feel like he ought to be sprawled on his back, perversely leering up at... someone. Pain wracked his body as he tried to explore that thought, so he let it drop, collapsing onto the floor of the sled, clutching his head in his servos.

"Oooh, dat smahts," he whined, feeling concern flood his awareness. He couldn't help but think that the sentiment was sweet, coming from whatever it was, but it did nothing to dull the ache.

It wasn't fair. He shouldn't be able to feel these things without knowing their source. What he'd gone through to earn them; the struggles they had gone through and obstacles they overcame.

Obstacles was a rather big word for him to use, especially while his head was throbbing.

It wasn't him. It was inside him, but it wasn't him. It was the voice, the... the spark. The other. Who? Someone important. Someone he'd kill himself for forgetting...

iTis not your fault. Tis the virus clouding your thoughts./i

Warmth filled his chest, spread to his back, then drifted down his limbs. He had the distinct impression that someone was holding him. Someone big, leathery, and just a bit prickly. It was a rather comforting presence, and he decided that he liked having whoever or whatever it was around. Annnd there was that smug feeling again. Hoohooboy, was he gonna pop somebody in the nose if he didn't stop bein' a prat.

He heard laughter bubble up inside his subconscious and he grinned along with it, feeling his own brand of smarm. The moment was far too short lived. A few small explosions rocked the transport sled, then a heavy wait came crashing down onto Rattrap's back.

"DAUW!" he yelped, thrashing frantically to get the thing off himself. He felt it move and realized it was a bot. " Hey, geddoff buddy! Dis is my hidin' spot!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" The weight lifted. The rat let out a sigh of relief and slumped to the floor, then pushed himself up, arching his back and shaking himself out. Oooh, slag, that _hurt._ "Rattrap?"

His head jerked up at the familiar voice, for some reason entirely not surprised to find himself looking up into the face of a... (gorilla)... that was staring at him with an expression of surprised recognition.

He felt the corners of his lips twitch, the other pushing him to say something. He didn't like that the voice, the presence was able to exert the slightest bits of control over him, but part of him knew he was only doing it to help. He acquiesced to the spirit, and felt his lips form the word, "Optimus?"

If seeing the face had begun to trigger memories, saying the name brought them crashing down on the rat like a tidal wave. He was Rattrap, formerly Rattle from the Vega Quadrant, and he'd signed up for an intergalactic exploration trip at the insistence of his good buddy... ahn, Landmine. There were others; a kidbot, fresh from the academy, Optimus, the leader, and a whole storage room full of even more bots in stasis pods. They got delayed at a space station – Predacons! - then crashed onto a dirtball of a planet. Earth. Beast modes. Beast Wars! His bondmate...

Once again, explosions rocked the sled, knocking Rattrap out of his thoughts. Oh, damnit, he was onto something there too. Never mind, there'd be time to think about it later.

"You mind tellin' me what's goin' on here?" he yelped, standing up on his hind legs so he could wave his little arms around frantically. "One minute, we're headin' home ta Cybertron, an' th' next, dese... YO-YOS!'re usin' me fer target practice!"

"You don't remember either?" Optimus frowned, tilting his head to the side in thought. "It must be some sort of virus causing a memory glitch."

"Gee, y'think? Like I ain't had time ta figger dat out myself?" Rattrap snapped, then calmed himself down. Optimus was just trying to be helpful, there wasn't any need to get snippy. If he could just relax, remember how to activate his transformation switch...

"Doh-! Gaaauuggh!" he shrieked, pain streaking through his body in whole new ways. Sparks shot out from his transformation seams, arcing over his fur and making it stand on end. The scent of ozone and singed fur filled his nose, and through static filled optics, he saw Optimus looking down at him, his expression soft with pity. He just couldn't stand that, and the presence didn't seem to care much for it either, so between the two of them, they pushed back the pain and got back onto his hind feet.

"It's okay, Rattrap," Optimus said, speaking in the sort of soothing tone that Rattrap felt best used on a petulant child. It did nothing to calm him, but he kept quiet as the gorilla spoke. "I can't transform either. But we don't have time to worry about that now, we have to keep moving."

"Whoa whoa whoa!" the spy's optics widened, and he threw himself back against the wall of the sled. "No way, uh-uh, ain't no way dis rat's dessertin' dis titanium reinforced ship!"

Optimus gave him a dirty look instead of replying, turning his back on the rodent and hauling himself to look over the side of the sled. He must not have liked what he saw, because moments later, he dropped back down and grabbed Rattrap by the scruff of his neck. It was an all too familiar position, but the rodent screamed and flailed anyway, especially when the exploded just as the pair went soaring through the air.

The voice inside snarled as they landed, correcting Rattrap's balance so that he landed gracefully on his feet. He knew it wasn't exactly appropriate for the moment, but he couldn't help but think it was cool.

_Nevermind! _The voice snapped, shuffling his feet after Optimus's retreating back. The other didn't seem to quite have the hang of running on all fours, so Rattrap obligingly took over, if only because of the squad of tank drones firing heavily on his aft. _Trust Optimus and keep trying to transform! If you could just get your gun out..._

Rattrap didn't need to be told twice. "Rattrap, maximize!" he hissed as he ran after the gorilla, nimbly dodging cannon fire as it came too close for comfort. "Rattrap, maximize. Ratrapp, _maximize!_"

It didn't work, but Optimus barreled on ahead, letting out a shout of "This way!" before turning a corner. The spy couldn't figure out what was different about that way from all the other ways, but at least a couple of tanks were taken out by the sudden sharp corner. Unfortunately for the Maximals, it also led to a dead end.

As the remainder of the tanks closed in around the pair, Rattrap shoved himself into the farthest corner, shaking like a leaf. Yeah, he had a deathwish, among other glitches, but at the same time, he _really_ did not want to die. Not now, not like this. It had nothing to do with the voice cursing him, calling him a coward. Or maybe it had everything to do with it, he couldn't tell! All he knew was that he didn't want to go down in some back alley, slaughtered like a bag of meat by some drones.

"Rattrap... pretty please maximize?" he whimpered, closing his eyes and waiting for the end.

An end that wasn't coming just yet.

There was a feral roar, the sound of something hitting metal, then the heat of laser fire wooshed over Rattrap's back. He pulled his pink hands away from his optics and watched, jaw scraping over the ground, as a cat clung to a tank drone's head, front paws desperately covering its optics.

"Cheetor!" Optimus shouted, taking a step forward. Personally, Rattrap thought that was pretty stupid, but he could see elation in his leader's eyes. In the end, he couldn't fault the leader for being glad to see the kid again, especially since he just saved their tailpipes.

"Spots!" he jumped in, ducking as another burst of heat erupted over his head. "Boy oh boy, kid, am I glad ta see you!"

"Good to see you two too!" the cheetah laughed, breaking off into a grunt as the drone gave a particularly violent shake of his head. "But you gotta move it or lose it! I can't play blind man's bluff forever!"

"Che, you said it," the rat snorted just as another drone chose that moment to fire on Cheetor.

The kid was lucky, jumped out of the way just in time. Rattrap felt pride swell in him, but tamped it back down again. Stupid voice, now wasn't the time to boast about teaching the fluffball a few slick moves. Not when he was taking the time to _talk_ to the bot that almost offlined him.

"You just scrapped your own guy!" Cheetor chided, glaring up at the drones. "That's pretty deep freeze cold!"

"Save it, Spots! Dey're jus' drones, dey don' know no betta!"

Cheetor's head jerked around to stare at Rattrap, wide eyed. "What, drones?"

"No time to explain," Optimus grunted, grabbing the smallest Maximal and hurling towards the drones.

Rattrap chittered in protest, but the voice was urging him on. Damn thing, making him act like the hero he wasn't. He'd just have to scrap himself if it kept this up. If the drones didn't do it for him.

Snarling to himself, the rat darted between a drone's legs, confusing it. Three more lined up behind it, so he ran between their legs too, hoping that Optimus was on the frequency he thought he was. To his relief, the last bot toppled to the ground just as he cleared it's hulking shadow, and he just couldn't resist a victory cheer.

Optimus didn't give him long to celebrate. The gorilla was on the move again, Cheetor hot on his tail. All the running was beginning to grind his gears. He was a sprinter, for Primus's sake! Built for short bursts of speed that were just enough to get to the nearest hiding hole! Not all this, this _monkeying about! _But he had no choice. It was either follow the leader, or get scrapped, and being winded was much more fun than being dead, and there were more drones showing up.

"Not fair, not fair at all," he muttered, running along behind the other two. He could feel both his inner monologues starting up some fantastic rants, and he let them run. One cursed everything, from the drones to the other maximals to the other voice inside him, while the other focused mainly on cursing himself and his cowardice. He was glad to know he had his priorities straight, even if all the mental chatter was giving him a headache.

A dark, overshadowed alcove offered a place to rest, and Rattrap put on one last burst of speed, passing both cat and ape by. He all but threw himself into the shadows, and collapsed, aft on the ground and back pressed up against the wall. Cheetor flew into the dark beside him, then Optimus, and the trio held their collective breaths as the drones passed by, too dumb to look anywhere but straight ahead.

Rattrap let out an explosive burst of air and slumped to the ground, carefully cycling air through his vents to cool his overheated system. He just wasn't _built _for this sort of thing!

Cheetor was in his element, or something like it, because he still had the energy to pace back and forth, tail rushing through the air in angry swipes. "This is insane! Did I miss something here? We are on Cybertron, right? _Our home planet?_" he ranted, ears pressed flat against his skull. "Why are our own kind firing on us?"

"Take it easy, kid!" Rattrap snapped back, mustering up the energy to yell in the cat's face. "Take a look in th' mirra', why don'cha, an' think fer a second! Dose bots out dere, dey're _drones! _ Sparkless automatons dat're too dumb ta tell th' diff'rence between 'n alt mode 'n a real live organic! _Our kind don' recognize us!_"

"Oh yeah? Well how can you tell their drones, huh? They don't seem to be much smarter than some OTHER bots I could name!"

"Oh, dem's fightin' woids, pussy cat, an' I'm gonna make you eat 'em!"

"That's enough, both of you!" Optimus bellowed, getting between the two mechs before they could come to blows. "Fighting isn't going to solve any...thing..."

The pair back down immediately as their leader trailed off, concern for his well-being overtaking their urge to smack each other. They watched dumbfounded as Optimus's dark eyes began to glow white and he stared slack-jawed into the distance.

All at once, he came to, shouted "This way!" and bolted off into the night.

"Is it jus' me," Rattrap asked, shrinking back into the shadows, "Or was dat totally creepy?"

"Creepy or not, Optimus is on the move! Come on, we gotta go!"

Rattrap whined as Cheetor took off after the wayward gorilla and buried his head in his hands. How did he get himself into these... these shenanigans? (Well, it all started three years ago when you-) Shaddup. (You'd think you'd be used to this sort of nonsense by now.) Y'd think so, wouln'cha?

"Rattrap, come on!"

"I'm comin' kid, hold yer horses!"

With a sigh, the rodent reluctantly left his hiding place, running after the cheetah as fast as his little legs could take him. Thankfully, the run ended up being a short one, but only because of the wall of tank drones menacing their fearless leader. The gorilla was grunting and snarling at the oversized mechs, backing up step by step. The sound of grinding gears caught Rattrap's attention; another wall of tanks were closing in behind them, shoulder-mounted cannons blazing with energy.

"Dat's it," he whimpered, huddling closer to Cheetor. "We're all gonna die."

"No! This can't be it! We've come so far, this can't be the end! There has to be another way!"

"There is! Jump!"

Jump. Oh Primus, did Optimus really want them to jump down a giant hole in the street? There was no way, he couldn't possibly-

_There is no alternative,_ the voice growled, and Rattrap found himself plummeting forward, tumbling head-first into the gaping ravine.

This time, he really was going to die.


End file.
